Deeper than the Sky
by Sharlee
Summary: Van had his duties, Hitomi had her life. The single moment had become memory. Ten years later, they receive a second chance to understand the true meaning of the fate they chose, for both Gaea and their future. series continuation.
1. Chapter 1: The Beginning of Happiness

**Chapter I**

**The Beginning of Happiness**

**-**

**-**

It was said that the beginning of a relationship hints at the future. And it had been a perfect romantic evening.

So why did she run away?

-

"Hitomi, the bath is ready!" her mother called from downstairs.

Hitomi slowly rolled on to her side and got up from the bed, tucked pajamas under one arm and opened the bedroom door with the other. The cold wooden hallway on her bare feet and the slightly open window in the dressing room made her shiver as she drew off her clothing. She had forgotten to slip on the house slippers. Hitomi placed her pearl earrings on top of her dress, lavender silk in a simple A-shape with cap sleeves.

Please wear something nice tonight, he had requested.

In the humid bathroom, she rinsed off the chill and the tiredness, then settled into the bathtub, carefully folding herself beneath the water, letting its heat seep in. She skipped the shower cap; she wanted to immerse her whole body in water tonight.

Sousuke had taken her to dinner at the Grand Tokyo Hotel. Amid candlelight, heady wine, soft jazz on the piano, and gasps of surprise from neighboring tables, he kneeled beside her chair and proposed. At first, he thought that her silence was a happy consent, but when he took her hand to place the ring on her finger, he looked into the depths of her eyes, saw the wretchedness and the tangle of feelings there, and understood. Always the perfect gentleman, he escorted her to her train in silence. And when her train arrived, he only said, "I'll call you next week." Hitomi couldn't nod or reply, but watched his figure on the platform pass out of sight as her train departed.

Her parents and Yukari would probably think she was crazy. What was there to think about? After all, he was a talented electrical engineer with a bright future. He and Amano had started at Sony the same year. They met during orientation training, and despite their different departmental divisions and their opposite dispositions, they became fast friends. Amano and Yukari schemed for a few weeks, then invited Sousuke and Hitomi for dinner without telling either that the other was invited. It wasn't love at first sight, but she enjoyed his company, and subsequent meetings that arose from Amano and Yukari's insistent nudges and plots grew into friendship and then courtship. They had been together for a year, and he never pushed her, never even held her hands without her consent. Without question, he would be the perfect husband and father, undemanding, forgiving, sincere, generous.

She could quit her junior veterinarian position in the partnership. She could assume a comfortable suburban life. She could devote her attention on their perfect home and, in time, their perfect children.

Hitomi sighed. Her mother would probably scold her for her actions tonight. Her family already viewed Sousuke as another son, and often Hitomi noted with amused annoyance that they were more protective of him than of her.

What was there to think about? She was already twenty-five, an indisputably marriageable age. Her wedding would have white lilies and a tiered cake with little lilac flowers in icing. Her mother would make her try on dress after dress of white lace, but she would pick a silk with flowing lines, a bit sweet, a bit daring. She would be late to the dress rehearsal but would be too nervous to sleep for the wedding day. There would be white roses and candles floating in glass bowls on the banquet tables. Sousuke's parents and friends who would fly in from America would be perfectly respectable, while her brother Mamoru would attempt to speak his congratulations after too many drinks to bolster his courage, and her dad would reminisce about her most embarrassing childhood moments. Yukari would probably give her a wedding present that she wouldn't dare to open in front of the guests.

"It would be happiness," she told herself firmly.

He would make her happy.

Wouldn't he?

She suddenly stood up, water rushing down in sheets. It was late, but Yukari wouldn't mind.

-

-

They had agreed to meet in a cake shop in the shopping complex beneath Shibuya Station.

"Hitomi!" Yukari waved to her from a corner table. She was in a powder blue skirt with cowboy boots, her long red hair in a low side ponytail. Her cheeks glimmered with the contentment of a happy young wife. "You're late again. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised anymore."

The tiramisu and the strawberry cheesecake were quickly finished, but the waiter kept their coffee cups full. The cake shop was a cozy nook amid incessant shopper traffic, a favorite weekend refuge ever since Yukari found it during Hitomi's second year at Tokyo University.

"How did you know that Amano-senpai would make you happy, Yukari?"

Yukari glanced up from her cup in surprise. "Did he...?"

Hitomi felt her cheeks tingle.

She grinned and slapped Hitomi on the arm. "Took you long enough!"

Oh, she was definitely blushing now.

"Did you drop any hints?"

Hitomi managed to look indignant despite her embarrassment. "I wouldn't do that!"

"Sorry, I forgot that you are Miss Romantic."

"..."

"I think that this calls for a whole year's worth of desserts."

"Huh?"

"Hey, aren't you grateful that your best friend gave you a husband?"

Hitomi flushed harder and looked away. "I haven't accepted yet—"

Yukari was on her feet, "What? Why? Are you crazy?"

She softened at Hitomi's expression. Settling back into her chair, Yukari set her coffee cup down into its saucer, oblivious to the uneasy glances from the other patrons. "Love is different for different people, I suppose."

"But how did you know that Amano-senpai would make you happy?"

"I just knew." Yukari stared into the creamy depths of her cup and blushed in turn.

"That was no help at all," Hitomi raised an eyebrow. Yukari punched her harder this time.

-

As they walked towards the Yokosuka Line for Hitomi's train to Kamakura, Yukari asked, "You're not thinking of him, are you?"

"Who?"

"Never mind."

They walked on in silence. Overhead, the platform's PA system announced, in a pleasant female voice with distinct syllables: "The next train toward Zushi will be arriving in four minutes. Thank you."

"I still think you're crazy."

Hitomi felt a twinge of frustration. It wasn't that she didn't anticipate Yukari taking sides with Sousuke, but still, it was utterly unfair. Shouldn't her best friend understand her feelings?

She opened her mouth to retort. "I—" She bumped into someone and turned around to apologize.

"Hitomi?"

It was Sousuke.

_He would make me happy. What was there to think about?_

And then, everything on the path was laid before her. Her new home, their wedding picture on the wall. A new life with Sousuke. His unavoidable late hours as he neared project deadlines, and his apologetic gestures the next week. The unspoken assumption to quit her job and bear a son to continue the Yamamoto family line. Polite praises on her neighbors' immaculate houses and their unruly children. Well-intended orders from her mother on the best foods for conceiving a son instead of a daughter, despite Hitomi's explanations of biology.

The certainty of her new life pressed upon her. And suddenly, Hitomi realized she wasn't sure she wanted this future. Was it only wedding jitters? Or was it all wrong? The principles on which she based her adult life seemed to be exposed as frauds. The effort she had put into her achievements, her education, her relationships, seemed insubstantial now that the end result was failure. She was alone, her family and friends in all directions calling her name, urging her on, but it didn't matter which way was true, because there was no truth after all.

Hitomi turned and ran.

The platform's floor lights began to blink in rapid succession. She could hear Sousuke and Yukari running after her, their cries of "Hitomi! Wait!" sinking into the muttering of the PA and the rush of the approaching train. Her movements were impeded by her dress flats, but she continued to run.

The crush of bodies toward the front of platform jostled her, and Hitomi fell off the platform. Someone cried out above her. She was illuminated by the approaching headlight, her shadow long behind her. She shielded her eyes from the bright light, and saw the unfolding of the scene as if outside her body. People pressed towards her, gesturing and pointing. Mothers clutched their children closer. Train conductors blew their harsh whistles and rushed toward her with long poles. The train's emergency brakes shrieked. Sousuke and Yukari were still running towards her, yelling her name.

_No! I still want…_

The train finally screeched to a halt, but there was no Hitomi.

-

-

-

* * *

Thank you for reading the first chapter of _Deeper than the Sky_! 

As much as I loved _The Vision of Escaflowne_, I was disappointed at its ending. Of course, it made sense—they are only fifteen, after all—but the acknowledgement of its rational conclusion doesn't soothe the distress from my inner romantic self ; ; This was the starting point of my project. I hope to match the same feelings and ideas as the series, to give you guys a realistic version of Van's and Hitomi's second chance.

If you notice similarities between my story and Chocolatelova's _The Last Night of the World_, they are not intentional, I swear :P We are became online buddies after reviewing each other's stories on ff, and now send each other drafts and discuss elements from Escaflowne. We individually conceived our plots around the same time period (I started in April), although it is sometimes eerie to us, too, how similar our ideas are.

Much love to Chocolatelova and Sapphirefly, for their patience and insight, and their examples.

These websites have been indispensable (please note my replacement commas):  
- Escaflowne Compendium (escaflowne,anime,net) - Comprehensive information on the series. Especially useful: country, guymelef, character, episode notes   
- Lizzard (www,lizzard,net) - Complete information on the _Girl in Gaea_ movie. Hosts transcript of Jeture drama. Especially useful: map of Gaea (www,lizard,net/Jeture/map,html)  
- Yoko Kanno Project (www,jameswong,com/ykproject/core,html) - Complete list of series and movie music. Music clips. Especially useful: lyrics translations  
- Onelook (www,onelook,com) - Dictionary, similar words, reverse dictionary feature.

The forum for _Deeper than the Sky_ is available through my profile if you would like to bring any questions or discussions to the table. See you there!

sharlee  
07/2006


	2. Chapter 2: The Bright World

**Chapter II**

**The Bright World**

-

-

Hitomi was running in the darkness. A swath of gleaming red carpet laid a straight path toward a dark, unknown destination in the distance. She was running easily at a good pace, and noted the familiar feelings of calculated respirations, the rhythm of tension and release in her legs, but the situation seemed wrong. Her running didn't seem to bring her any closer to the end of the carpeted path.

She then sensed something approaching behind her—organic and vague, a motion and a shadow. Glancing backward, Hitomi saw that the carpet had reared up behind her, devouring the path behind her into its red swollen mass. Need displaced all other considerations, and she urged herself on faster. The carpet behind her grew with each passing second, gaining speed as if its appetite only increased the more it consumed. The darkness deepened, the carpet's roar became closer, and Hitomi felt the ground vibrate with its movement. She couldn't go on anymore. The carpet arched above her, and she was engulfed into the darkness.

-

Hitomi woke with a start. She trembled and tried to raise her head, but the slight effort made stars in the dark. Shivering, she buried herself further underneath the covers. Her lack of choice, the propulsion to run toward the unknown, the uncertainty of what awaited her at the end of the carpeted path—all these frightened her now, just as it had before. When the carpet swallowed her, Hitomi always felt as if its weight was suffocating her, trying to snuff out her existence.

"Don't worry," a voice whispered, a familiar voice she couldn't quite remember. A warm hand smoothed her tossed hair from her forehead. "You're safe."

She closed her eyes and surrendered herself again to the darkness.

This time, Hitomi heard shadows of conversations, but she nudged them away before they awakened her to consciousness. The suspense of time was a pleasant languor, free of responsibilities and constraints, a luxurious repose full of nothing but the self. As a young girl, she used to hide in the closet for some quiet time. The familiar smell of her family and the comforting crush of heavy coats and jackets mixed together with the warm darkness. Hitomi would sit in its corner, her father's black wool coat at her back, until her mother would start shouting her name throughout the house in worry. When Hitomi reopened the closet door, the world always seemed so dazzlingly bright.

-

-

Hitomi woke to the sound of birds. There was a light breeze from the open window, smelling of early spring. Wooden beams and white-washed walls shone softly in the ambient light. She knew it wasn't her bed nor a hospital bed, but somehow the feelings of reality and dreams wove together into a comfortable midafternoon, and she felt completely safe.

The door slid open. It was a young woman in her early twenties, wearing knee-length black tights beneath a short, sleeveless dress that displayed her tanned shoulders. Her arms were full of folded linen, and she moved carefully with the load. As she padded toward the dresser in the corner, Hitomi could see her orange tail, swaying in tempo with some secret delight.

_Tail?_ Before she could fully process that thought, the cat woman noticed her awake and shrieked in surprise. "Hitomi!" She hurried over and clasped Hitomi in an embrace with unrestrained happiness. "We've missed you!" The linens lay forlorn in a corner of the floor, forgotten.

_Tail. Missed me._ "Merle?"

"Hitomi!" Merle began to sob. Hitomi hugged her tighter and stroked her fur-soft hair.

Was it a dream? She was back in her previous room at Fanelia castle, with a crying Merle to comfort. But her room was slightly different. A section of the screen had been fitted with new wood and repainted. Her bed now leaned against a corner, to make room for the new dresser.

Hitomi stared. Her duffel bag and purse were on top of the dresser. Her purse, she could understand; she had been carrying it when she ran away from Yukari and Sousuke.

_Sousuke. Running away. The train._

And she was now on Gaea.

She stiffened under the full impact of this situation. Merle had ceased her weeping, and eyed Hitomi with curious concern.

"How did I get here?" Hitomi murmured.

"Van-sama, of course!"

Something within Hitomi gave a small poke, something that hadn't surfaced for quite a while.

"I was outside the conference room, and suddenly the usual boring talk stopped..."

"Eavesdropping, eh?" Hitomi couldn't resist herself, even at this moment.

Merle continued as if she hadn't heard. "Then Van-sama suddenly came out and ran down the corridor. I tried to run after him, but the council made me stay and asked me so many questions." She paused and made a face. "After a couple of hours, Van-sama returned with you."

"Oh."

But, that didn't help to explain why she was back on Gaea, instead of lying on a hospital bed in critical condition. Unless, this was a dream. But Merle was in front of her, holding Hitomi's hand with her own warm ones, her childhood expressions blossomed into charm, her emotions as unassuming and overwhelming as ever.

"You've been sleeping for three days! I should go and tell Van-sama that you're awake." Merle bounced off the bed and was through the door before Hitomi could respond.

_Van. _What would she say? After ten years, what was there to say? Should she pretend nothing had changed? She wanted to go ahead and bare the entirety of her new life: _Everything's going okay with me so far; another man just asked me to be his wife. How are you doing?_

-

Van stood outside Hitomi's door, a hand poised to knock, but unable to conclude its intention. What would he say? What would she expect him to say? His only thought seemed to block out everything else: _Would you stay longer this time?_

He frowned at himself, and started to turn away from the door. Merle rolled her eyes as she gave an exasperated sigh. In one swift motion, she wrenched open the door, shoved him into the room, and slammed the door shut. Her duty dispatched, she congratulated herself on her ingenuity and pressed an ear to the closed door.

-

Inside Hitomi's room, the awkward silence settled in like snow on a winter night. The mild dialogue Hitomi had just practiced was forgotten as she and Van stared across the room at each other. She sat stiffly under the bed covering, a tense grip on a pillow.

Van recovered faster from Merle's surprise and resumed his customary wall of indifference. He advanced slowly and steadily towards her, planted his hands on her bed, and leaned forward, an unreadable expression on his face. Hitomi suddenly felt very naked despite her clothing and the bedspread.

There was a polite knock on the door. "Van-sama? The afternoon council is starting."

He straightened as if electrocuted and crossed her room in quick strides. Hitomi caught a glimpse of a tall, broad man behind Van as he hurried into the corridor.

Merle passed Van in the doorway with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Hitomi, let's go out!"

-

As she changed into the new dress Merle brought, Hitomi tried to will away the embarrassment from her cheeks and place her thoughts back in order.

Van hadn't changed much, yet he seemed different. He still favored slim pants and the common shirt, and his long black locks still extended past his eyes. He now towered above her, but slender and fit, not as tall as Folken or as broad as his father. His previous possessiveness of the royal sword was now quiet assurance and companionship. The main difference was his aura—a maturity, an understanding of responsibility, an acknowledgement of his authority and his position, an acceptance of his burden.

More than ever, he was an enigma of open invitation and secrets. She smiled at an image of what Van would look like with his hair brushed back, his hands without the ever-present gloves. And of course, the greatest secrets were hidden within him—his emotions, his ambitions, his desires, his wings.

The smile released tightly wound thoughts. Hitomi's head felt heavy, and she steadied herself against the bed. This meeting had been so different from the last time she saw Van, when she said goodbye to him and entered back into the light, into her other life with her family and an expectant future. There had been no space for commitments, only a promise.

Hitomi couldn't hold the feelings in anymore. She tumbled in the flow, full of doubts she couldn't quite place and didn't want to place, but they ushered her along in their regardless wake—loneliness, betrayal, abandonment. They made her acknowledge what she had seen, what she didn't want to notice.

Van didn't have her pendant.

The coolness of the linens beneath her palms calmed the welling pool of tears. Tears would be meaningless, for there was nothing else left but acceptance. They had loved, that should be enough.

He had his duty; she had her life. She was selfish for seeing only that Van was guilty. She also had betrayed his trust. She had thought she could believe in their pledge to remember each other. Instead, she had kept Van in deep memories, she had considered a life with Sousuke. If she changed, why shouldn't Van change, too? It had been ten years. It should be no surprise that he no longer cared, that he had put childish promises away. Time passes, circumstances change, events become memories.

Hitomi finished dressing and tried to place firmness into her steps. Merle was waiting.

But what should the past mean, now that she was back on Gaea?

-

-

-

* * *

Thanks for reading ch2! Love for everyone who reviewed. That extra effort is much appreciated ;3

If you're interested in contributing to discussion or seeing the writing process experience, feel free to come over on the ff forums or the blog In particular, Japanese culture will have a significant impact on Hitomi's character, so if you ever have a question or think I got something wrong, let me know.

Fanfiction is fantastic, especially because it's free and user-friendly, but sometimes I wish there are additional features, such as appending notes to favorite stories in our profiles to let others know exactly why we love that fic. Since that's unavailable, I'll be highlighting my favorite Escaflowne stories in the Author's Note section for the next few chapters. These stories are well-written, well-planned, and have changed the way I look at fanfiction. If you haven't read them before, I highly recommend them!

-

Favorite story #1

_Angel of Fire_

By Wink75CS

AU, set up as a possible re-telling of Escaflowne. Believable setting, lyrical prose, underlying mysteries, interesting dialogue. The characters are a blend between series and movie editions, and are perfect for the story. Angsty Van, spunky Hitomi, waffy ending—what's not to like? One of the most well-written stories on ff I've ever read, with beautiful sentences and world-within scenes.

-

sharlee  
07/2006


	3. Chapter 3: Reminiscence

**Chapter III**

**Reminiscence**

-

-

Fanelia spread in eight directions from the castle walls, full with houses, while storefronts spilled into the streets. Buffalo wagons groaning with mercantile goods coursed steadily in both directions. Children played carefree; elders lounged in the shade. Paddies shone in the distant hills. The castle sat majestically in the midst, its presence a protection and a comfort.

The forests once again sheltered Fanelia within their bosom.

After her sightseeing obligations, Merle soon delved into her favorite subject, reinforcing highlights with both whiskers and tail, and although Hitomi listened with interest to Van's deeds in haphazard chronological order, the reminiscence made Hitomi delve into her own memories of the past ten years.

-

Hitomi had returned back to Japan into the same moment, that evening at the nurse's office. Amano still was the same—calm, confident, collected. But this time, Hitomi understood her feelings, understood the changes within her, understood what she wanted to do. She asked Amano to wait with her for Yukari. Amano complied and sat in the seat next to her bed, and although he smiled on her with gentle concern, she could tell he was surprised. She had never directly requested his presence, and had never asked as if she only expect acquiesce. When Yukari arrived, Hitomi also made her sit.

In a quiet voice, Hitomi began the tale—The Vision of Escaflowne.

Amano and Yukari were great listeners. They looked genuinely concerned as Chid restrained his tears at the burning remains of Godashim, were shocked as Millerna announced her wedding with Dryden, and grinned goofily as Van demolished the rogue guymelefs in the Palas coliseum in his return gesture of friendship. But after the tale was done, Yukari shook her head in disbelief, and Amano praised Hitomi for her imagination. The missing pendant was reasoned to have been dropped on the school grounds, and although Amano immediately offered to search for it, they didn't understand the true significance of its loss.

Hitomi sighed inwardly. She asked them to meet in front of Shibuya 109 on Saturday. They agreed, a little too quickly. Then she took her bag from Yukari, and headed home, alone.

-

That Saturday, Hitomi had woken to a gray morning and the patter of rain at her window. She dressed with care—short, light skirts were suited to rainy days. She tucked toast into a plastic baggie and placed it in her jacket pocket, its warmth a fleeting pleasure.

When she stepped out into the muggy late summer rain with her boots and umbrella, Hitomi giggled a little. Amano and Yukari were certainly at Shibuya by now, their loyalty stronger than any dismal weather. The two would wait beneath the front of 109 for her arrival for another hour until they resign to their fate of abandonment. A whole afternoon indoors watching the rain and the pedestrians, with peppermint gelato and each other for company—was there any better recipe for romance?

The path uphill from the train station was a tricky trek through puddles and slippery steps. By now the rain had lessened to a drizzle, and its warm drops settled upon her honey-blond strands like a mantle of dew.

The trail of stairs into mountain seemed to be an entrance into a hidden world, its shadows full of formidable mysteries. Surrounded by the tall grim woods, the usual crimson torii gates were pallid and worn. Her steps were muffled by leaves underfoot, discolored and discarded on the sodden ground. The shimenawa ropes wept. Perhaps it was the dreary grayness, or perhaps it was a reflection of her mood, but the shrine seemed especially melancholy that day.

Hitomi settled underneath its tiled eaves, and took out her toast, cold and slightly soft by now, and a little notebook. As she leaned against a pillar and looked out across the little stone clearing where she first saw him in his carefree red shirt with his red energist, she began to write. It would be the true version, complete with intimate details she had left out in the telling for Yukari and Amano. She had to write it all down, before she doubted her own memories.

-

-

Van tossed the last sheaf of papers across the table and reached absentmindedly for his cup. The tea was down to its sad cold dregs. Sighing, he glanced toward the unshuttered window to confirm the time—the twin moons were high in the sky, pale against the net of stars—past two already. The last report had occupied him for some time. Finding spare parchment underneath the paperweight, he wrote "continue surveillance" with a quill, signed it with his mark, then pressed his seal into the wax over the folded sheet. He held his handiwork up to the light and grinned. His council had requested permission to create a replacement official seal many times, the original lost in the fire ten years ago, but neither could he be bothered with an object not in his possession at all times, nor could he be bothered with a signet ring that would impede mobility. To the council's chagrin, Van had always used the most natural seal on his person—the Fanelian crest on his sword.

Letter and sword in hand, he went off to the residence wing of internal staff. His master recordkeeper was still up as usual, adding his summary comments in submitted documents for Van to read the next day. Handing over the letter and his customary instructions, Van bade the old man good night.

The castle corridors were now lit only by shaded torch stands; the broad expanse between each was obscure and somber. His footsteps rang hollow in the wooden halls, and assumed a different significance in the stillness of the night. Passing the solitary guard at the stairs, Van made a mental note to speak with the guard-captain tomorrow, although perhaps it was still too early for partners to be a necessity.

He walked past the study and stepped into his parents' room. No—it was his room, now. Despite his occupancy since his coronation, the space still felt too large and foreign. It didn't seem his, somehow. It had been unoccupied for so long, had been a place he both avoided and escaped to, that it seemed wrong to live in it, to call it his own. Housemother Sara had raised an eyebrow at its spartan state, but Van preferred its bareness. The brass bedframe, the indigo covering with its embroidered royal crest, the carved sidetables—everything was as the same as he remembered from childhood. The only feature he added to the reconstruction for fire damage was a side door to the adjoining study, so his tendency for work during certain insomniac nights would be unobserved by the household staff.

Van let out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. Despite the late hour, he decided to return to the staircase for the training hall on the uppermost floor.

-

Standing at the center of the dark room, Van merged with the shadows, and only the slight reflection off the lacquer on his sword gave an indication of his position. On some nights, when he trained through familiar forms in this familiar room, he could almost feel the presence of Balgus.

No one could replace Balgus. To others, he was one of the legendary swordsmen of Gaea, but to Van, he was a loyal vassal, an indispensable mentor, an almost father. Beyond the lessons in diplomatic relationships, monarchy responsibilities, and warfare strategies, Balgus had also given him the ability to feel like other people.

It wasn't that he was ungrateful of his lineage, or despised his status. On the contrary, the weight of his obligations was so imbued into each decision since early childhood, that the full realization of "I am Fanelia" seldom intruded into his thoughts, except in times of doubt when his policies enforced greater good at the price of individual grief.

But, ah, sword practice was different. To exert physical effort, to sweat, to feel the same thirst and soreness after a difficult session—it was a different life.

After things had settled down in Fanelia, Van, to his disappointment, quickly learned to prefer solo practice. Although Balgus never ceased his deferential speech even in reprimands, he never let the difference between their statuses be an issue during training, but it seemed that no other person in the castle could look past Van's title in the training hall.

He crouched low, left foot in front, his left hand grasping the scabbard in a loose hold, his right hand hovering over the hilt. Van concentrated on the methodical breaths, the paradoxical feeling of relaxed control in his arms, the slight arch in his lower back that held the tension point of this starting position.

As his right foot made the decisive step forward, he seized the hilt, and unsheathed the sword in a perfect arc.

Solitude.

-

Tonight while he trained, instead of Balgus, a different figure appeared in his mind's eye.

Van had been in another long council meeting, trying to hide his frustration. Kuon's captain of intelligence just reported on recent developments in Basram, and tensions were high among the staff, each feeling uneasy at possibilities that may now come to fruition. The news revealed an oversight with emissaries on both public and private fronts. Although Fanelia so far had been neutral in its position to Basram and Cesario's disputes, the benign survey may be misconstrued by either country. While his chief vassals weighed the next course of action in their tight circle, the junior staff's discussion on protocol changes soon escalated into allusions of derelict duties.

His first thought was to call them to order. Accusations and bickering weren't acceptable practices on his staff. More importantly, he needed them to concentrate on the tasks at hand. Van didn't want to deal with personnel issues in addition to this potentially insidious juncture.

But then, with some embarrassment, he remembered a certain hotheaded boy years ago. He decided to stand in front of the window instead, to wait and listen some more.

There was a flash of light at the edge of his vision, making him turn toward distant hills in the northeast, and he pressed his palms against the glass.

The steady beam of light was unmistakable. It had to be Hitomi.

"Council dismissed!" He yelled over his shoulder as he ran from the room, not caring if they heard his dismissal, not trusting to stop and give an explanation. Some things were best kept hidden, even from his most trusted advisors. Besides, what if she was found first by someone else?

On the long ride, he found himself urging his horse to higher speed as if it was Escaflowne, and wanted to laugh that his kinship with an animal was less than his bond with an ancient armor. A voice nagged at him for this preposterous behavior, and questioned him for his immediate certainty that it had to be her, but Van ignored it. Some things had to be.

The late afternoon now faded into dusk, and Van hastened his approach into the purple hills of Arzas. At the top of the crest, he dismounted to wade through the tall grass, leading Melidoul by his reins. The air was fragrant with herbs and tiny star-shaped white flowers that speckled the soft ground and peeked through gray blades and patches of briar.

A dark shape amid the knee-high grass suddenly enlarged into a formidable boulder, and as Van grasped his sword into a drawing position, it called out to him. Van relaxed and stepped forward. In his haste, he forgot that he already had stepped into the boundaries of Arzas. No man or animal can cross in safety unless recognized as a friend by the authority of the packleader.

Ruhm grinned down at him. "So the girl is back." He picked up his quarterstaff and slung his pack over a large shoulder. "Take care, Van. See you two around." And with that, he waved and walked off deeper into the shadowy meadow.

Van blinked, and then stared at the spot Ruhm had vacated. She was unconscious in the grass, wearing a light wool sweater and dark pants, strangely fragile amid the rough landscape. He looked down the hill at the clusters of cabins and huts, lit against the coming night, a bonfire in their midst. Sounds of cooking and singing rang across the village. "Thank you, Ruhm," he murmured.

He placed Hitomi on Melidoul, letting her head rest against his mane. Melidoul seemed to understand his charge, and stood still while Van swung up behind her and pulled her back against him. It was a little awkward to try to carry her, and after some deliberation and fidgeting, Van settled on nestling her in front, her weight against the hollow of his shoulder, an arm holding her close. She would be most comfortable sideways, although it was not an easy position for him—her legs dangled over one side and brushed against his thigh, her hair tickled his collarbone, and he held the reins unsteadily with the free hand.

Melidoul's pace was slower now, but the ride back also seemed more distant, somehow. He tried to ignore her warmth, her smell, but his senses, sharpened by the dark night, only drove the thoughts deeper—she was back on Gaea, and by god, she was in front of him.

It was late evening when he passed through the east gate, and although he knew that all but the main thoroughfares would be sparse with pedestrians at this hour, he still chose to wind through the back streets. No need to broadcast Hitomi's return. The fewer who knew about her, the better. At the inner castle, he entrusted Hitomi to Merle's care, then returned to the council. The chief vassals knew his moods, and didn't press him for any answers as they continued the meeting as if there hadn't been any intermission.

-

Van halted. His forms hadn't been this loose, and his mind hadn't been so clouded, in a long time.

Despite becoming better at controlling his emotions in recent years—all the practice of acting confident when he was hesitant and cautious, all the times forced to be generous when he was frustrated—pretending that this impulse to find her was instead a routine duty of gallantry definitely surpassed his limits. Why had he played the rescue of the damsel in distress on his gleaming chestnut horse? Worry for Hitomi had displaced his attention to duty. It had blurred his better judgment.

And then there was his rash behavior in her room earlier today. Why did he get so emotional? Was it because, for a moment, he had blended Hitomi of the past and Hitomi of now together?

She had become a woman, although he didn't understand exactly how to describe it. She still kept her hair short, but it framed her face in a new way. And despite wearing a sleeveless white dress typical of Fanelian young women, she looked distinctly different.

Different. Not from this world.

He was suddenly angry. It was unfair for her to come back to Gaea now, to come back into his life so suddenly.

But what did he feel, anyway? Did he still love her? Ridiculous. He was upsetting himself over nothing. He couldn't even be sure that she was still Hitomi. The person who was in front of him on that horse, who was now in her previous room, despite her name, despite looking like her, despite her familiar smell, she was a stranger. Hitomi had left for her other life, her real life. And she, just like him, would surely be different now.

Van sheathed his sword by his side, and walked out of the training room, toward his chambers.

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Thank you for reading ch 3 and sticking by me so far! As an accompaniment to this ch, I have a drawing at jomiel,com/vanhitomi horse,jpg (remember to replace commas with periods), so now you can all know what I've envisioned the two to be like at 25 ;P Please do not link or post the drawing without first letting me know. Depending on access, I may take some necessary measures.

A slight aside: if you are not in the habit to log in or don't have an account on please consider it. You leave such lovely notes, but I have no contact information to write a thank you back. Reviews make me smile so much that I'd really love to write everyone back for your comments and critiques.

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Favorite story #2  
_Mystic Eyes_  
By Aishuu

Out of continuation fics set as reincarnation of Gaea characters on Earth, this story has been the best I've read. Beyond complicated backstories and great prose execution, Aishuu also researched heavily into tarot cards. Unfortunately for its sexy Van, she seems to be taking a hiatus from ff, but the story is still enjoyable and its possibility intriguing.

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sharlee  
08/2006


	4. Chapter 4: The Day of Planting

**Chapter IV**

**The Day of Planting**

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Hitomi was hopelessly lost. Each street of Fanelia seemed to look the same as any other to her eyes. She stepped under a shop awning and straightened her dress for the sixth time that hour, unused to her wide Fanelian skirt. It was the Day of Planting, and everyone was out, strolling among shops and booths or heading to the planting ceremony. Hitomi was supposed to meet Merle there in fifteen minutes, but she hadn't even seen a glimpse of the shrine. Yesterday's tour through the city was a whirlwind, and Merle's fast train of directions this morning was now completely forgotten. There must be a map around somewhere, Hitomi mumbled under her breath.

"Would you like an escort this evening?"

She hastily looked up, embarrassed to be caught grumbling to herself. A stern, tall man with watchful gray eyes stood in front of her. "Oh, no, thank you, I couldn't trouble you."

"Heading to the planting ceremony?"

She nodded.

"Well then, would you keep an old man company?"

As they weaved through the crowded streets, people seemed to steer a wide berth. Hitomi found the phenomenon useful as she followed him a shoulder's length behind. He was built and tanned like the Fanelians, and walked with purpose and command. His lacquered armor with its crest at the chest shimmered with the sheen of past campaigns and long years of service. Perhaps a general, or a chief vassal. Yet contrary to the common fashion, he had gathered his graying hair into a short low ponytail.

And then there was his conduct. Most likely, he had not asked her name because he already knew. That made Hitomi uneasy about past rumors and what Van had told his staff of her intruded stay in Fanelia, and she tried to keep her head high and to not think about what this man might have heard of her.

They left the city proper and continued their loop toward the back of the castle, and the streets became a series of well-trodden dirt roads, wide and shaded, set into each hill bank curve. Everyone was now traveling in the same direction, toward a humming noise that grew with each step and promised an exciting evening. After a particular bend, Hitomi saw the entrance to the shrine, or rather, the festival. Underneath the canopy of boughs and lanterns, the endless train of people brushed against each other along long rows of stalls, like a stream with a series of eddies and shallows. Wood smoke and food aromas were layered on top of the smell of people, the smell of exhilaration.

"The planting ceremony should just be starting, and Merle is probably at its front," the man said.

Hitomi hesitated in the road. Why, she wasn't sure. Certainly, she wasn't afraid of crowds—she had endured many train rides to Shibuya during rush hour to meet Yukari for their cake visits. He was already a few paces in front, and she hurried to catch up. This time, she followed his broad back through the crowd, and twice almost clutched his light cloak to avoid being swept in another direction. There were many elderly farmers with toughened hands who pushed steadily ahead with a quiet reverence, and foreigners in rich brocades and travelers in patched cloaks who cast curious glances everywhere about them, but most of the people were families from the city and the countryside, here to enjoy a holiday together.

When they arrived at the paved plaza in front of the shrine, Hitomi realized why she paused earlier. There was Merle—she waved enthusiastically as she struggled to cross over from the other side of the gathering—and there was Van. He was in the middle of the clearing, standing next to the priest and the shrine attendants—and looking at Hitomi as if she had risen out of the sea.

Then the stranger nodded, and Van turned back to the priest.

That made her wonder at the identity of the man beside her. Perhaps Van was merely staring at her companion. But Merle arrived at her elbow and the ceremony was starting, and her attention was pulled away from wandering thoughts.

The priest, an old man in white robes and a resplendent, billowy cloak of blue and gold, spoke in a resonant voice, "On this day, Year of the Crystal East, White, 15th Moon, we hereby ask your blessing on this Day of Planting. May our fields be laden with gold from your gift of rain and our storehouses be filled from your body earth. May our young grow up strong in your image and our old lay to rest in your peace. May our king lead our beloved Fanelia to prosperity with your voice and deliver justice with your wisdom. This we ask, on this Day of Planting."

Then he started to chant:

_Escaflowne...  
As Gaea was born, he that was born also;  
His anger causes the earth to tremble, calling forth storms from the heavens._

_Escaflowne...  
As Gaea was born, he that was born also;  
Causes tears in the minds of men, the pure-hearted white dragon._

Hitomi was torn between amusement and disbelief. To think that Fanelia worshipped and prayed to Escaflowne, the guymelef, was impossible. Maybe it was named in memory of the deity. That was more likely. She whispered her question to Merle.

"Yeah, Escaflowne was a dragon many, many years ago," Merle whispered back, "and he was friends with the first king of Fanelia. The king had named his guymelef after the dragon when the dragon died, I think. Or did Escaflowne turn into the guymelef?" She frowned. "Anyway, there's a whole legend, and Van-sama knows it better. We can ask him later." She shrugged and turned back to watch.

The shrine attendants, in white robes underneath orange and gold cloaks, had stood by on one side with wooden bowls, one filled with husked grains, one with water. The priest now turned to Van as Van held up a golden platter. The priest took a sapling nestled among the grain, placed it on the platter, then dipped both hands into the other bowl, and flicked drops of water from his fingertips.

Van raised the platter above his head in acknowledgment. He held it in front solemnly as he crossed the plaza, followed by the priest and the attendants, still holding their bowls, then vassals in their ceremonial armor, and then the crowd in a less tidy line. Her companion led Hitomi and Merle to the head of the line, right in front of a man with green armor, who nodded at the stranger, then gaped at the women in tow. As the procession led deeper into the wooded hills, the men sang in low, somber voices that lingered on each sound, almost like another chant: _Escaflowne... Escaflowne... Escaflowne_…

After a few moments of walking and singing, they all clustered around Van at the base of an ancient, magnificent tree. Its roots had long split the earth, and branches trailed long drooping streams of lichen. The tree seemed to harbor a multitude of other lives that called its shelter home. The lowest boughs were eight meters above their heads, and tips of the highest branches disappeared into a dark, leafy sky. Around its wide girth was tied a white cloth. The men sang softly now, their timbre like whispers of wind and spoke of echoes in the earth. Van kneeled, and scooped the ground with his bare hands to form a shallow hole. He placed the sapling inside and patted the soil back around it. When Van stood up, the singing faded into the stillness of the woods.

It was now the end of dusk, and people lit small lanterns and white candles, and started to walk back in silence. As Van washed his hands in the water bowl, Hitomi realized the stranger was no longer beside her, but next to Van, in quiet conversation with him. And the man in green armor was there, along with other vassals and staff. Merle amused herself with people-watching, but Hitomi was uncomfortable and self-conscious as they waited for Van. The chain of attention and talks started, first from green armor to brown armor, then to brown's group, then dispersed in all directions among the staff. If it had been a different situation, she would have looked on with humor, and laughed about it with Yukari later, but this was a land she had never belonged to and perhaps was no longer welcomed in. Surrounded by whispers and curious eyes, with only Van and Merle and maybe the stranger as the only familiar faces, Earth and home were very distant indeed.

And then she saw that Van had unhooked his formal coat—underneath stiff indigo and threads of gold was the usual red shirt—and she laughed. That was so distinctively Van, to pair a commoner shirt with his fine deerskin boots. Fanelia was simple compared to its neighbors, but ranks and classes were still divided and distinguished by dress, and on this important holiday, vassals were in full ceremonial armor with insignias and marks of their house, and learned men the tasseled formal robes of their professions.

The laugh made Hitomi feel bolder, and she started to return their looks with smiles. It didn't really matter who they thought she was. She knew who she was, and Van and Merle knew who she was, and that was enough. The men soon retracted their glances, and each tried to take up an occupation of talking intimately with a companion or walking to the next destination.

Merle asked why she was grinning into space like a knucklehead. Hitomi shook her head and laughed again.

The stranger now walked over with Van, and addressed Hitomi, "I hope you enjoyed tonight so far. The Day of Planting is one of our traditional holidays."

"Yes," she said, "and thank you for earlier. I wouldn't have made it here without your help."

He turned to Van, "Van-sama, I think you should escort them to the festival."

Merle jumped and clapped her hands together in excitement. "It's been so long since we've properly went."

After some silence, Van gave Merle a slight smile and started on the return path, "Let's go, then."

-

As Hitomi and Merle hadn't eaten anything since a late breakfast, their first stop was supper. Van led them through the crowd, casting glances to his left and right, searching for something. Hitomi was surprised when he stopped in front of their destination. It was a small stall, and the sign in front had been chipped and painted over, and stated simply: "stew".

The proprietor and his wife looked up from the large pot and greeted Van enthusiastically. Van sat down at the long wooden table. "Four bowls, Chin. And bread."

The stew was hearty with potatoes, sweet with carrots, spicy with herbs. It settled in Hitomi's stomach like a warm quilt, and the contentment spread to her toes. The bread had a fragrant, crackling crust and an airy, creamy interior. Hitomi had never eaten anything like it. Bread in Japan was soft and buttery, and often had a savory topping or a sweet filling. This bread was just bread, but as she followed in Merle's example, eating some plain and dipping other pieces into the stew, she felt that just bread was fantastic bread, indeed.

While they ate, Chin chatted with Van. His sons were grown and moved into their own houses in the same valley, and produced the finest lamb anywhere, and his daughter was now married to a tailor on the main street.

The stranger had followed them, and now sat on Hitomi's left, passing her honey and butter for her bread. It seemed wrong to be offered food like this from a man with no name. He was clearly someone close to Van and in a position of great influence, for Van placed his suggestion above his own tendency to retreat from crowds. But the whole affair was peculiar. She paused her spoon and voiced the first question that popped up. "How did you know I was meeting Merle here?"

"I thought perhaps Van-sama had explained," he blinked, then chuckled. The humor softened his eyes. "But, of course not. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. I'm Leal Masaou, one of the four chief vassals, commander of the north. Fanelia castle is also under my region, so as a guest of the castle, I bound to you my charge and protection."

"Ah, so I should thank you for letting me stay."

Leal smiled. "You are Van-sama's guest."

A guard in gray armor stepped in front of the stall and bowed, "Van-sama, there's an urgent message for you. He carries the red card."

Van nodded and waved at him to come in.

Another man appeared at the guard's side. He must have ridden a long distance in haste; his whiskers were unshaven, dark shadows of fatigue were around his eyes, and his cloak was travelstained. But his armor was brightly polished, and he carried a flat enameled block in his hands, red with a white crest on one end.

Without any other greeting, the messenger bowed and presented the block in both hands. As he received it, Van withdrew a thin dagger from his side, and broke the white wax seal. The block was actually hollow, and Van reached in and pulled out a sealed letter. This he read with an impassive face. At the letter's end, Hitomi thought he glanced in her direction, but it may have been another look to Leal.

Van lifted a corner of the letter over the table lantern, and held the paper aflame in his gloved hands as it turned to ashes. He handed the red carrier back to the messenger, then spoke deliberately, "Last year's crops are not good enough. Make haste on the current harvest. And I must have more data on the crows." The messenger bowed, and departed into the crowd.

Code, obviously, but Hitomi didn't know what it meant. She looked sidelong at Leal, but the man was cutting more bread. He offered her another slice.

The proprietor looked worried. "Van-sama, will there be problems with this year's crops?"

"No," Van replied, "it will be just fine." He lifted his bowl. "Another for me, please."

Although his expression looked the same as ever, Hitomi noticed that he ate more slowly. But whatever the contents of the letter and the meaning of Van's reply, the dinner seemed to abate his defenses, and when Merle asked him to tell the story of Escaflowne, he readily complied.

Chin's wife had produced tall mugs of ale from the next stall over, and the old couple sat at the table, too, now that dinnertime had passed and sales were winding down. Van took a gulp from his before he began:

"Fanelia was formed ten thousand years ago by King Zoah. Before then, there were only clusters of villages. Although they were of common kinship, tribes often contested against each other over rights of game and water, and also suffered attacks from outside forces. Zoah was from a hunter-farmer's family on the borders of Tyrrhenia, the country to the west, and he saw the need for Fanelia to cease bloodshed among its people and stand firm against its neighbors. So he left his village, and journeyed all over Fanelia to find a solution.

"When he was in the north forests, he dreamt of a white dragon with eyes of deep blue. And it was said that when he woke, the dragon was standing over him. It said its name was Escaflowne, and it had been waiting for Zoah for many days. 'Dark warrior, your purpose is noble and the chance is soon upon you, but I wish to make a final test to see that your heart is true.'"

Merle made a noise into her mug. Hitomi smiled as she saw her tail twitch. Merle must be thinking, "Who agrees to take a test from a talking dragon?" But the story was too serious to raise funny questions.

Van had paused to look at Merle, and now continued. "Escaflowne asked Zoah to slay the serpent in the forest, a terrible creature that haunted the shadows and drank his fill from blood. If Zoah brought the head of the beast, Escaflowne would assist him in his task.

"It took Zoah weeks to track down the devious serpent, and nearly lost his life in the furious battle. But at last he triumphed when the beast was careless in its gloating, and he brought back its severed head.

"Escaflowne then pledged its life to Zoah, and they went on to establish the realm of Fanelia. When Zoah finally took the throne as king ten years later, surrounding countries sent gifts of gold and spices, and curious playthings and silk. But the king of Tyrrhenia sent his only daughter. On the day of the wedding, it was said that Escaflowne flew over Fanelia castle in seven circles, and then disappeared into the sacred forest. No one ever saw the white dragon again, but when King Zoah drew his last breath, they heard a cry settle over the city, like that of a dragon in greeting."

"So Escaflowne was named after the dragon?" Hitomi asked.

Van nodded. "It was the dowry from Tyrrhenia."

"They gave an Ispano guymelef as dowry?" From how King Aston and his advisors had treated Escaflowne, and how Cesario and other countries looked toward Van for his participation in the war, not to mention Dornkirk's obsession with its possession, she had thought it was rare and extraordinary.

"Tyrrhenia was in its golden age, and had several guymelefs of Ispano make. But since then it had fallen into decline and ruin, and each successive generation decreased in its influence. The last great king was a thousand years ago, who attempted to reunite the kingdom, but he was forced to death by treason. Since then, Tyrrhenia has not been ruled by a true king, to my knowledge."

The tale done, and their stomachs and thirst filled, they took leave of Chin and his wife. The old couple protested when Van drew a purse from his pocket, saying that he always insisted on paying them every year, and this year it should be their treat for Van-sama. Van only smiled and pressed the golden coin into Chin's palm, and turned away before the old man's hands started to shake from gratitude.

Merle ran enthusiastically to each stand with games. Hitomi felt a little awkward towering over the children, but Merle seemed so happy that she couldn't help feeling excited, too. One had little sacks of grain that they tossed into concentric rings (Hitomi won a tiny wooden cat while Merle got a cow and looked at hers wistfully). One had a chalked circle full of colored marbles, and they had to hit the red ones out but avoid the blue ones (they both did badly). One had a prize of tadpoles if they could identify the frogs and toads from their croaks (Merle got them all right but gave the tadpoles to a little boy looking on with awe). An old man with scarred hands made delicate pulled-sugar candies, two gidarus each. Van paid for everything.

It was now approaching midnight, but today was a holiday, and many children still ran about on the grounds, and young couples were allowed to stroll together unchaperoned. Hitomi and Merle, however, had risen early to work on Merle's new project, and though they tried to stifle their yawns, Van saw through their act and insisted they return to the castle. Leal had departed an hour earlier when one of his staff came to fetch him. As they passed by the front of the shrine grounds, Hitomi saw that a bonfire had been erected, and many young men and women with bells on their wrists were dancing to a reed flute and a lap harp.

The streets were chilly compared to the heat of the crowds and energist lanterns. There were still a few scattered stalls on the main roads, and warm light and music spilled from tavern windows. As they walked down a lonely sidestreet, Hitomi's attention was drawn to an odd motion in the shadows. A scruffy gray cat limped slightly, and held its left forepaw with care. A thorn stuck in the soft underpad of the foot, perhaps, or maybe a broken toe. Hitomi bent down and approached the cat slowly, to decrease the appearance of threat. She talked softly in a low voice, and the cat allowed her to get close, although it still watched her warily with yellow eyes.

Just when she closed her hands around the cat's weight, she heard something large approaching fast behind them, and she tried to turn around.

"Hitomi!"

She felt being drawn back forcibly—and found herself in Van's arms. Pressed against his coat, she heard Van shout commands to the guards at the closest post. She registered the chaos around them—a runaway horse startled from a sudden noise, the farmer who had turned his back for a second, whistles from the guards to warn the end of the street—but she could only breathe in Van's smell and look at the laces of his shirt, noting that he always crossed right over left, and that he tied a slightly lopsided knot.

Hitomi had forgotten about the cat until it asserted itself, frightened from the commotion and unaccustomed to being handled in this fashion. It struggled to free itself between them. Surprised, Van loosened his hold on Hitomi, and the cat leapt over Van's shoulder, then disappeared into an alleyway. They both stared after its departure. When Van returned his attention, he seemed shocked to find Hitomi so close, and immediately dropped his arms and stepped backward.

"Van, you're hurt." Feeling guilty to involve him, she took her handkerchief from a pocket and reached out. The cat had torn his shirt, and there were three long scratches on his sternum.

He took another step back. "I can take care of it." His voice was rough and distant.

He started to turn away, but paused and took off his coat. He draped it over her shoulders, then walked down the dark street without another look back.

Merle looked divided between following Van and staying with Hitomi, but then she saw Hitomi's front. "You're bleeding, Hitomi!" The cat had also ripped her dress in its desperation, and little crimson patches flowered on the bed of white. Her bra peeked through a particularly long rip, and Hitomi was both embarrassed and grateful for Van's coat as she hooked it up to her throat.

The walk back to the castle wasn't long, since Merle led her through the correct streets, but Hitomi felt that everyone around stared at her. She patted her face, but there wasn't any blood or scratches, or anything else immediately wrong that suggested their attention. There was no chief vassal escorting her this time. Surely, a couple of girls in common Fanelian dress should be of no great attraction, even if it was a late hour.

It wasn't until she returned to her room that she understood why they were staring. Her reflection in the mirror was pale, and her white dress hem was sullied from dusty roads, but more striking than anything else was Van's coat. It had a simple cut, slightly austere with its standing collar, but the golden embroidery at cuffs and throat was heightened by the dark wool, and a jeweled brass crest of a flying dragon on a field of crimson was pinned to its left breast.

Anyone could see that it belonged to the king of Fanelia.

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* * *

Thank you for reading ch4! Whew, this was a long ch ;P It makes me happy that you guys are still following the story, even though I'm a very slow writer.

As to Zoah and Escaflowne, I'm not completely pulling the story out of air, but I did take great liberties with existing information .. On Escaflowne Compendium, it is mentioned that Fanelia has flying dragon worship, and after I read the lyrics for "The Vision of Escaflowne" from Yoko Kanno Project, I decided to expand on the ideas to give my own version of what Escaflowne means in Fanelian culture and history. (Although, I've listened that particular track many times, and I couldn't find where the lyrics come in ; ; Is it just me? If someone knows, please tell me.)

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Favorite story #3  
_Because I don't know what love is_  
By Dariel

Sweet, exciting, with tension throughout, this is the first fanfiction that moved me out from anonymity to contact the author by comments and emails. (Horrible of me, I know, to not submit reviews before then. But then we all make mistakes when we are young, eh?)

After reading Dariel's stories and seeing her put so much heart into writing a story that isn't in her native language, I began to feel guilty that I've written nothing for my favorite series. And so I wrote the first drafts of _The Dragon Cannot Cross the Line_, but I was still too scared to post it on ff.

School became busy. I dropped my reading on ff for a couple of years, and then this year picked it up again, and found that Dariel had since published some more stories (_Angel of Mine_ is another good read, and she says she has all the notes but just too busy at the moment to finish). Then I met two other authors on ff, and they encouraged me so much by their examples that I dusted off _The Dragon_ and started on _DS_.

Here's to you, Dariel!  
/toast

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sharlee  
September 2006


	5. Chapter 5: Morning Suprises

**Chapter V **

**Morning Surprises**

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Morning breeze whispered through the leaves of the sacred woods, and dappled sunlight danced on the white stone grave of Goau. It had been a place of quiet contemplation for Van these past years, but though he stood at the grave with his eyes closed, Van was anything but calm.

It had been a week since the Day of Planting, and still the rumors had not died down. Leal had staunched some with reverse rumors from his agents, but Fanelia was a small country, and any news was big news.

All his precautions—taking Hitomi through Fanelia on back streets, asking Merle to dress her in the common fashion, revealing her identity only to intimate staff—he had undone it all within three seconds of unthinking. Now everyone in Fanelia was discussing Hitomi's past; each conjuring and telling of events during the Gaea War more distorted than the last. Most hadn't seen her when he brought back the energist from the rite of dragonslaying ten years ago, or even know of her existence beyond the circulating stories. Some probably couldn't recognize her even if they passed her on the streets. But that didn't stop Fanelia from weaving wilder and wilder speculations on Hitomi's return, and a couple of the stories were uncomfortably close to the truth.

Today, however, the recent rumor said Hitomi was Van's new lover, and his coat was to cover up their tumble in the woods. Van had turned color when the intelligence clerk gave his morning report. It wasn't the poor fellow's fault. The new clerk probably had been forced into being the scapegoat for this unfavorable delivery, with his shuffling feet and hobbled speech. But Van felt like strangling someone, and he had held his anger and his hands until he could escape out of the castle.

What a way to esteem and protect a guest of Fanelia. His people owed her—he owed her—welcome and obligation, but instead he had prompted dark stories on her honor. And what was worse, her attraction as seeress and prophetess alone would rouse intrigue in other countries, and now he had compounded the problem by putting himself in it. It was entirely possible that Zaibach loyalists or his other enemies, previously with no interest in Hitomi, might take these rumors into consideration and shift their designs onto her. Leal hadn't said anything to him except to suggest strategies to control the situation, but Van knew Leal was disappointed, just like how Balgus would feel ashamed for him.

He was a fool. Hitomi was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. It would be better for her if he left her alone.

On top of this, just before dawn another messenger from Kuon's captain of intelligence had returned out of Basram, bearing a red card and troubling news. The prophet there was gathering more attention and public approval. His followers and other dissonant voices have been demanding resignation from Basram's president, for the stale development of the country and its declining state since the Gaea War. Other countries have started to take an interest in this prophet Critias, and his messages now spread like a tide out of Basram, slow but inexorable. He spoke of the destruction of Gaea and conspiracy in high places, and the coming of absolution. Though Basram had officially announced him as a fake, certain things matched when one dug a little deeper. It was said Critias was a bent old man, but his words possessed power over both hot-blooded and cynical men, and could incite order into uproar. The Philosophical Society in Egzardia and the minor houses of Cesario were already drawn into its wake. It wouldn't be long now, to have rumors of a different sort in Fanelia—rumors of destruction and redemption, rumors with dark tidings and deeper wounds.

In the morning meeting, the master recordkeeper had reported on promising starts for his new development projects: public education and irrigation, new roads and water canals. But they would take years to mature, and the glimmer of hope couldn't dispel Van's grim thoughts on the coming tide. There was the heaviness of war in the air. Basram had sent messengers ahead to request an audience with their chief diplomat. Cim was supposed to arrive this week, and Van had a sensation of foreboding.

He understood now why his brother had hoped against all hope, and turned his back on Fanelia to join Dornkirk's farfetched dream. War brought out the best and the worst in men. Nothing could summarize the ruthless destruction of the Gaea War better than Basram's energist bomb, and although it curtailed Zaibach's large armies and led to the triumph of the Alliance, its moral and political implications still threatened to topple the society and men that had created it.

But though he understood Folken's reasons, it was still impossible for Van to agree. Who had the right to decide that the promise of a better future was sufficient to tear down their past and present? His brother's actions had thrown Fanelia into flames and brought war upon Gaea. After the ruin of Fanelia castle, Van had chased after Dilandau and Folken in his desire for revenge and punishment, and had defeated Zaibach's armies for the peace of Gaea. He had willingly accepted bloodshed as duty. But Van remembered each soldier in the path. On certain nights he would dream of an unquenchable fire, the faces of death amid the flames and ashes. And last would come Folken, his wings sometimes white and sometimes black, but always with his back turned, his face in the darkness. Van would reach out to grasp his brother's shoulders, but his hands would never touch him, as if Folken was of smoke and mists.

Peace shouldn't justify war, not at such a price. But even if he threw all these considerations away, was there a clear limit on the price of peace? If the war was to defend Fanelia, if it was to prevent a greater cost, if it was for something he couldn't possibly compromise—could he say that sixty thousand lives was a fair trade for accomplishing his aims? Could he do it if it was six thousand instead?

Still mired in his tumultuous thoughts, Van noticed quick footsteps behind him. Lately he felt an unreasonable dread whenever a messenger arrived in haste, no matter if it was a red card or a simple request from Leal. Maybe he was just tired. In addition to the usual demands of spring, a time to lay plans for the rest of the year, this week was full of long meetings and petitions, each stacked behind another. There had been an especially wearying case on inheritance, and at one point in the screaming match he was tempted to put the wife and the dead merchant's lover and their wailing children out of his hall until they can speak in coherent, civil sentences.

"Van-sama!" One of his groomsmen ran up the path. He paused and struggled for breath, "You were really hard…hard to find. I ran everywhere and of course the graves would be the last place I'd look—"

"Bos."

"S-sorry! It's Hitomi-sama… I wouldn't let her see Melidoul but she came in anyway and you know how Melidoul is—"

Van ran toward the castle. Melidoul was a great horse, if he was feeling amiable. Otherwise, he was temperamental, and sometimes sullen if the day was too damp from the rain, or if he disapproved of the new batch of oats. He had been withdrawn and irritable this whole week, a suspicion for illness or injury. Today he would be even more sensitive to upsets. The doctor was called in this morning, and Melidoul disliked touches from strangers. From what Van had heard of the Mystic Moon from Hitomi, today was definitely not a good time for a city girl to pet Melidoul. If anything should happen to her— If he couldn't even—

He rushed into the open stable doors past Umara the groomsman, and stopped. Hitomi was inside Melidoul's stall, with only her blonde head visible. She seemed to rest her head next to the horse, and talked to him in an undertone as she touched his neck and muzzle. Melidoul's large dark eyes had a pleasant expression. Almost of enjoyment, if that was possible.

Bos burst in. "Van-sama—" He tried to say something else, but only huffs came out.

Hitomi turned around and smiled, "Oh good, Van, you're here. You can help me engage his attention."

Van walked toward the stall but looked at her for an answer.

"I want to examine him," she said.

"But Hitomi-sama, like I've just said. The doctor saw him this morning already and said he needs to rest for a week. He said there's nothing to be done but rest." Bos had a polite tone, but his expression plainly said his doubts.

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind an ear. "I guess you can call it professional interest."

"Professional interest?" Van echoed.

"I'm a veterinarian—a doctor for animals." Hitomi had a look he couldn't quite place. It was inward and distant, as if she thought upon a memory.

As Van let himself in the stall, Melidoul moved up, nuzzling his outstretched hand. Hitomi was wearing pink running shorts and a light navy jacket she had rolled up to bare her arms. Van swallowed, then glanced back at the horse. Maybe that was why Melidoul liked her. He'd do anything for females.

Van watched while Hitomi moved around Melidoul. She was obviously used to being around sick, frightened animals. He had overreacted when Bos ran up the path out of breath and delivered not even half of the scrambled message. His first thought had been fri—no, worry. Anyone would be worried for his guest at the circumstances. But he should have remembered that Bos was prone to exaggeration. Or at least remembered not to run. At least, she hadn't seemed to notice.

Hitomi had looked at Melidoul in a circle and patted him from head to tail. She now came up to his head, and moved a hand as if to strike his eye. Van felt his heart skip a beat, but Melidoul merely blinked. She then gently touched both eyelids, and coaxed the horse to open his mouth while she looked inside and pulled his tongue. Seemingly satisfied, she moved to the side and poked him in a series a few finger widths apart along his spine, and rubbed along his flank, pressing harder each time.

He never quite imagined her other life like this. Well, truth be told, his thoughts never got farther than her family life and sometimes a shadow of her lover—who always resembled a certain man, for some reason. Hitomi had a different fate on the Mystic Moon with her parents and younger brother. She had spoken of her family before, and underneath the veiled annoyance was trust and dependence. Van wondered how long she would stay this time before she decided to leave. He knew he would never be able to ask. Besides, it was better not to know.

"Van, would you keep him calm? He won't like this next part." She kneeled beside Melidoul's front legs, started to feel, then looked up at him standing there awkwardly. "You could talk to him."

Feeling a little ridiculous, he found himself reciting a story about a warrior who cared for his people and journeyed to make their lives better, and became king of Fanelia after slaying the dragon that plagued towns and countryside. The storybook was Folken's present for his fifth birthday, a few months before his brother left for the rite of dragonslaying.

Halfway through the story, Melidoul gave a start and stamped around in agitation. Van reached out for her as he hastily jumped back, but Hitomi already had stepped aside.

She came up next to Van to stroke Melidoul on the nose. "It's all right. We're almost done. And then you will feel better, hmm?" Her voice was mellow and her gaze intimate. Van was an intruder tumbling into a secret, or perhaps the heavy-booted wayfarer stumbling into the green peace of a nymph grove.

After Melidoul had calmed and nudged her in the chest in apology, Hitomi asked Bos for his reins and halter. Bos was quick to comply. Hitomi fitted them over Melidoul's head, then opened the stall door and slowly led him into the small courtyard. She walked him around in a spiraling circle, gradually stepping into tighter turns. It was slight, but Melidoul was clearly limping and wanted to avoid walking on his left front leg.

Back in the stall, she stared at Melidoul's foot as she mumbled something about support bandages and diagnostic equipment, then suddenly turned to Bos and Van. "I need some sturdy cloth, in long strips. And do you have ice?"

-

As Van headed back to the stable with a block of ice, he wondered briefly why he was running around the castle like an errand boy. Hitomi's look had reminded him of Housemother Sara's expression whenever she asked his permission to tailor new shirts for his already full closet—there wasn't any other answer but acceptance. But he could have called Umara over or delegated the task to a guard or kitchen maid. And what was more embarrassing, he had told a child's story—one not mentioned to another soul since he was five—to his horse in front of Bos. His horse! Now there was new fuel for rumors. They would say he was insane, or in love, and he couldn't decide which was worse.

A junior clerk under Belian caught him in the corridors. "Van-sama, the master recordkeeper and the chief vassals request your presence in the audience chamber. Basram has arrived."

Van nodded and placed the wooden bowl into his hands. "Please deliver this to the stable for me." He lingered in the hall as the bewildered clerk bowed and walked off in clipped steps. He had given the bowl away, but its weight still remained.

They had lost contact years ago. He had reasoned to himself that she must have changed, and had spoken it aloud to assure its certainty. Though he had expected it, though he had steeled himself to expect it, to see the truth before him was another matter. It was a life separate from his fate, something he would never touch. But there must be a reason for her to be here, in the past she had long abandoned.

Yet another question he'd never ask. No, it was better to think on concrete things. Van held his sword and turned toward the inner courtyard.

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Thanks for reading ch5. And sorry it's been so late in coming. I've told a few readers that I was going to post this three weeks ago (!), and obviously I lied. I'm a big jerk and I'm horrible at deadlines and there's nothing worse than failed anticipation. So very sorry. But it's a Van ch, and aren't we happy for Van chs? (Ah, yes, there is still the issue of a kissing Van ch, but there is no light without darkness, hmm?) 

I do have a draft of ch6 and Chocolatelova's lovely comments, but it's the start of the main story arc aside from the romance, so we'll see how long revision takes.

Your enjoyment of DS keeps me excited about this project. As uptight and obsessive I sound, I do want to stress that I'm accessible and not scary (at least, I hope...). I respond to comments and reviews, but also please feel free to come by my blog to talk!

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Favorite story #4

_Princess of La Vallex_  
By aurora-sakura

I loved how this Hitomi is very powerful and independent. She comes to Gaea for her own purposes, not for any sacrifices she makes for Van, although of course they end up together (as if there's any other possibilities). The new character Josceline is unforgettable, and Celena is like a breath of fresh air. Van is a bit less assertive, but we'll forgive him for being in love.

This and its unfinished sequel, _The Usurper's Throne_, are rated M for sexual suggestions and themes. The first story is more borderline, but definitely don't read the sequel if you're a kiddie.

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Until next time.

sharlee/jomiel  
11/2006


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